


The Letters

by mrs_leary (julie)



Category: Merlin (TV) RPF
Genre: Future Fic, M/M, Old Age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-28
Updated: 2010-03-28
Packaged: 2017-10-28 08:14:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/305759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julie/pseuds/mrs_leary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bradley and Colin have shared a long happy life together. While trying to cope with the changes that old age inevitably brings, they look back at all the things that went right for them and the things that went wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Letters

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings:** This is set many years in the future – however, for the purposes of the fic it’s a future that’s fairly similar to the present (cos I wanted to concentrate on the romance rather than making it science fiction). Your willing suspension of disbelief is kindly requested.  
>  ♦ And of course the logic of the fic dictates that our oldest and dearest cast member must have already passed on some while before. So if you need a warning for Colin’s heartfelt grief over the loss of Richard, then please consider it done. {sniff}
> 
>  **Notes:** For my dear friend **gealach_ros** , who asked for old!Bradley and old!Colin, influenced by her love for _The Notebook_ by Nicholas Sparks. ♥  
>  ♦ With thanks to Mr L for the line about ice cream. Oh, and for proving to me every day that long–term loving relationships can actually work!  
> ♦ Last, but by no means least, I must yet again thank the awesome **tindu** for the art that she created for this fic. I was honoured and humbled by her creative sincerity and generosity. ♥
> 
> ♥ Winner for Best Hurt/Comfort in the Bradley/Colin pairing of the Merlin Slash Awards, Spring 2010. ♥  
> ♥ Nominated for Best Long in the Bradley/Colin pairing of the Merlin Slash Awards, Spring 2010. ♥  
> ♥ Nominated for Best Romance in the Bradley/Colin pairing of the Merlin Slash Awards, Spring 2010. ♥

♦

## one

  


* * *

_I am a common man with common thoughts … but I’ve loved another with all my heart and soul, and to me, this has always been enough._

 _The Notebook_

* * *

When Bradley quit gardening for the day, it took him half the walk up the lawn to finally ease his bent posture upright, and his back was starting to ache in ways that seemed alarmingly familiar. He was still vain enough to hope that Colin hadn’t witnessed this, but Colin had his nose in a book as usual, and was safely oblivious. Though when Bradley finally drew close to the paved area tucked in between the conservatory and the apple trees – the Sun Trap, Colin called it – he saw that Colin wasn’t reading but actually dozing in the late afternoon warmth, and while he’d always been slim and pale, the strong sunlight was actually making him look translucent – and Bradley stopped in his tracks, and stared at his love, and for the first time Bradley thought, _Oh **god** we’re getting **old** …_

♦

Colin looked around the room with the candles all lit, and the table set with their best crockery and proper wine glasses instead of tumblers, and he smiled happily at Bradley – but then he suddenly frowned, and asked, ‘What’s the date?’

‘Fourteenth of May.’

‘Oh.’ He looked sheepish, smiled again, and then shuffled over to his seat.

‘No, you haven’t missed our anniversary,’ Bradley informed him. ‘Either of them.’

Colin chuckled at being found out, but he asked, ‘What’s the occasion, then?’

‘Can’t I make you a nice dinner for no particular reason?’

Colin scrunched up his face as if thinking really _really_ hard. ‘No,’ he answered.

‘Ingrate.’

‘Fuss–budget.’

‘What _is_ that? That isn’t even a thing,’ Bradley complained as he went to fetch the vegetable casserole. ‘I suppose it’s too late,’ he said gloomily as he dished out the meal, ‘to talk you into eating meat?’

‘Yeah, just a little.’

‘You’ll have a little meat?’ he asked brightly.

A flat look. ‘You’re a little too late. Like, _most of a century_ too late.’

‘It’s just… there’s almost nothing left of you but bones.’

‘You love my bones.’

‘Exactly. All two hundred and six of them. I want to look after them, and that means iron and calcium, and all those things you won’t eat.’

‘So feed me more broccoli.’

Bradley made a _nyergh_ kind of sound, which roughly translated as, _I could feed you a whole **field** of broccoli, and it wouldn’t make me as happy as watching you eat one good steak._

Colin just chuckled again, having never really bothered even _engaging_ with Bradley on this topic over the decades, let alone arguing with him about it. They ate quietly, Colin with the vege casserole and tofu, and Bradley with the casserole and lamb chops. After a while, Colin glanced up at Bradley, and seemed to be considering whether to say something. Bradley knew he would come out with whatever it was when he was good and ready, so left Colin to it. He used to encourage the man in moments like these, but Colin had always been the stubborn sort who did everything in his own good time. Eventually Colin asked, very tentatively, ‘Did we make plans already? For our anniversary…?’

‘The one in July? No, not yet.’

‘Oh. I thought I might have forgotten.’

Bradley smiled at his disingenuous love. He must be the luckiest guy in the whole world… Not only had Colin Morgan been his and his alone for an astonishingly long time, but age was bringing out all his natural sweetness and his simple honesty, while mellowing his drive, his single–mindedness, the intense focus that had taken him away from Bradley for months at a time. They were going to share the happiest of retirements. If… If… Bradley faltered. When he looked at Colin – really _looked_ at him and clearly saw how he was today without overlaying the man with memories of all their yesterdays… When he did that, then he had to admit that Colin was looking _frail_. And he was beginning to wonder if they weren’t running out of time. Or at least independence. They _loved_ this house that they’d bought together so very long ago, but it was large and the garden sprawled back down the hill for what seemed further each summer, and maybe, just maybe, Bradley was going to have to admit that their wonderful life together was going to change.

‘What are you thinking about?’ Colin asked. ‘You look sad.’

‘Oh, nothing, really… I think we’re going to lose that azalea down by the pond. You know the one with the perfectly white flowers?’

‘Yeah.’ Colin smiled at him, but his smile was touched by grief. ‘I thought you might be thinking of dear Richard.’

‘Yes,’ Bradley said gently. ‘I was thinking about Richard, too.’

‘That day is still so very clear to me, Bradley. Clearer than yesterday. Clearer than any day this year.’

‘I should think so,’ Bradley retorted. ‘It was the day you finally came to your senses.’

### Mortality

Bradley sighed, very quietly. Colin was a mess. He’d maintained his composure all that long morning throughout the funeral service and its aftermath. He’d even led the way in going over to the masses of gathered fans, talking to them with a quiet sincerity about how unique and amazing Richard had been. ‘When it came to Richard, I was a fan, too.’ Of course they asked about the accident, about Richard’s heroics. ‘It’s a mystery,’ Colin said, shaking his head in bafflement. ‘But that was exactly the kind of man he always was.’ None of them could quite understand it, but Richard had managed to free his friend from the wrecked car and drag him clear, even though mortally hurt himself, even though his right leg was broken in so many places it was as good as shattered. It shouldn’t have even been possible, but when his friend resurfaced with sirens wailing, it was to find Richard lying stretched in the long grasses beside him, his last expression one of peace.

♦

Eventually, as the morning wound on and became the afternoon and the wake showed signs of settling in for the entire season, Colin turned to Bradley, and at last there was a hint of a crack in his calmness, in his voice. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

‘All right.’

‘Take me home, Bradley. Please.’

‘Of course.’

It was July, and one of those perfect summer days with an arching blue sky and a gentle sun and a sweet breeze. The two of them spent it inside on Colin’s sofa, with Colin’s tears storming down Bradley’s shirt as Colin sobbed and clung and Bradley tried to comfort him.

After a long while, though, and in his own good time, Colin quieted. He settled with his head tucked in against Bradley’s chest, apparently not minding about the damp spot. ‘All right?’ Bradley asked in a murmur after he’d lost count somewhere beyond a hundred and fifty heartbeats. ‘Col?’

‘The last thing he ever said to me,’ Colin responded in a voice still rough with grief, ‘was early that same evening. _Look at the moon!_ he cried in delight. It had just risen, and it was full, you see. It was luminous. And he cried out, _Isn’t that beautiful?_ And he smiled at me, and then he walked away.’

‘He loved life,’ Bradley agreed. ‘Even after seventy–something years.’

‘I wanted to learn that, really _learn_ that. He taught me so much, but that might have been the most important thing. He was such a good friend.’ A long pause during which Colin wound his lanky arms around Bradley’s waist. Then he announced, ‘I took him to bed once. One long sweet afternoon.’

‘Colin!’

‘Are you shocked?’ Colin lifted his head, and they stared at each other, almost too close to focus properly. Colin’s smile had a wicked kick to it, but his eyes were imploring.

Bradley’s heart was pounding. He hardly knew what to think. Eventually he stammered, ‘I always knew you were capable of anything, Colin Morgan.’

‘Dark horse, yeah?’

‘Yeah.’ Bradley tightened his own arms around Colin, hugged him closer and pressed his face against that thick dark hair. Hiding from the man. ‘I bet – I bet he adored you for that. I bet he loved you for it.’

But Colin just kinda shrugged. ‘We loved each other anyway. Bradley?’

‘Yeah?’ Wondering what the hell else Colin was gonna tell him.

‘I wanna take _you_ to bed this afternoon, Bradley.’

‘Colin…’

‘ _Please._ I have to – get past this – _grief_. Somehow. Seize life.’

‘Oh god…’

‘I’ll take that as a _yes_.’ Colin pushed up and back, forced Bradley to let him go. Forced Bradley to look at him. ‘Come here, darlin’.’ Obviously intending an exploratory kiss…

‘Wait – Wait – I have to tell you something first.’

‘You slept with Richard, too?’

‘Good god, no.’ He hoped he sounded more surprised than horrified.

‘Come to bed.’

‘You know I’ve been wanting this?’ he asked, even as Colin stood, and reached for Bradley’s hand. Even as Colin tugged, and Bradley stood, too.

‘That so?’

‘That’s so.’ Even as he was led, even as he followed. Out of the front room, into the hallway.

‘Then it’s time for less talk and more action, Bradley James.’

The bedroom. Colin’s double bed waiting there, unmade, unkempt, completely inviting. ‘Oh god…’ Colin’s fingers at Bradley’s shirt buttons, surprisingly nimble, then wrenching his own shirt off over his head – and they were both bare–chested already, and no matter how many times Bradley had seen almost everything of Colin revealed in the midst of costume changes he was blown away all over again by how _gorgeous_ the man was – ‘Oh god… Wait – _Wait!_ ’

‘What? What is it?’ Even as those nimble fingers began working on Bradley’s belt – though far above that, those beautiful blue eyes looked at him with warm concern.

‘God, _kiss_ me, won’t you?’

And Colin grinned, his fingers shifting to caress whispers around Bradley’s waist, making him shiver, while Bradley’s trousers sagged wantonly around his hips. ‘Darlin’ man,’ in that gorgeous rich brogue. Probably Bradley could cope with endearments if they were in Irish, he figured. ‘My sweet darlin’ man…’ Or maybe he could just about cope with anything if it came from Colin Morgan.

Then Colin’s mouth met his, and despite an initial clumsiness, a brief frustrating mismatch, soon all was lush and hungry, and they were in each other’s arms, chest to bare chest, and they stumbled towards the bed, fell across it – and despite a moment’s confusion and bruising collisions with Colin’s elbow, his knee, Colin was moving over him confidently, and fumbling with his haste while getting rid of their remaining clothes, and kissing Bradley _kissing him_ , and everything was perfect.

♦

Bradley on his back, with Colin moving over him – Colin’s thighs straddling him, Colin sinking down onto him, clutching around him again and again, devouring him whole, Colin’s arms shifting in the air as if balancing on a tightrope, as if dancing – Bradley’s hands on the man’s narrow hips, Bradley panting for breath, he couldn’t _breathe_ , Colin took his breath away – Bradley belatedly realising the quiet wounded litany of _‘oh oh oh oh oh’_ was coming from him, Bradley groaning deep, trying to interrupt himself, trying to get a _grip_ for god’s sake –

But then Colin suddenly stared down at him with a speculative gleam, and on his next descent, he _ground_ down hard with a twist, and then he rose smoothly – and almost before he could do it again, Bradley was coming, powering up into him, dragging down on those hips, ramming himself up up up with a last broken cry, and the litany became _‘oh Colin oh god **Col** oh god please please please oh **damn** you **PLEASE** …’_

And Colin saw him through it, right through to the last delicious shudder, but then he was gone, and Bradley lay there boneless – reeling for a moment until he resurfaced to find those long nimble fingers of Colin’s insinuating themselves somewhere no one else had ever been – and the lube helped and the sense of utter abandon, utter pleasure, and anyway Bradley could probably cope with _anything_ if Colin Morgan was involved –

Then his breath snagged in his throat as Colin pressed himself inside, slow but relentless, and he was grunting _‘uh uh uh’_ or maybe they both were, and despite the rubber he could feel Colin’s heat within him, he could feel the push and thrust and _throb_ as he came, collapsing over him, just pulsing warmth within him against him through him… ‘Colin – Colin – dear god…’

♦

They lay there in each other’s arms afterwards, each as overcome as the other. Except that soon, apparently just as soon as he could put words together, Colin said, ‘Bradley? What did you want to tell me?’

And Bradley said, ‘I love you.’

* * *

‘And that’s how it happened,’ Colin concluded. ‘That’s why our _real_ anniversary is in July.’

They were on the sofa now, with Colin tucked into Bradley’s arms. How many evenings had they whiled away like this? Thousands. Tens of thousands. Even if one of them was reading a script, or Colin a book, even if Bradley was watching tv or they were listening to music, still they settled in close to each other. Close and warm.

Bradley hugged Colin closer and pressed his face against that thick hair. There was still just as much of it, Colin’s hair still grew wild, but it was grey now. It had been a strong steely virile grey for a long while, but now was at last starting to go pure white around his temples. All of which only made his blue eyes – always arresting – all the more startling. When Colin glanced up at him from where his head rested on Bradley’s shoulder, the air snagged in Bradley’s throat. ‘You take my breath away, Colin Morgan,’ he announced when he could.

‘I suspect that’s, uh – diminished lung capacity. The years will do that, you know.’

‘It’s your beauty, you hopeless idiot.’

‘And your eyesight’s getting worse,’ Colin added dolefully.

‘You _so_ don’t deserve me,’ Bradley loftily informed him.

‘No, and I never did.’

‘Hey, that’s not playing fair!’

Colin chuckled, and pushed up to press his sweet mouth against Bradley’s. Bradley moaned into the gentle kiss, glad that _frail_ didn’t mean entirely _chaste_ , even though he’d spent the past year or so making the most of their rare couplings, cos any of them might have proven to be their last.

‘ _Anyway,_ ’ he eventually continued, once Colin had resettled snugly into his embrace, ‘you know very well that it started _way_ earlier than that. Our _real_ anniversary is in February.’

‘Well,’ argued Colin, ‘it might be, if I’d have known about it at the time.’

‘And they say _I’m_ the slow one…’

### Valentine

Cast, crew and producers were determined that the fifth and final series of _Merlin_ would be a defining moment in television, and accordingly were starting read–throughs and rehearsals two weeks earlier than usual. Which was perfect, cos on Valentine’s Day, Bradley could slip a very ordinary looking envelope in with Colin’s official mail and script amendments, and no one would be any the wiser. Except Colin, of course. When he figured it out. Bradley grinned to himself, though parts of him were also shaking with nerves. And he took his usual seat beside Colin at the long meeting table. _Any minute now,_ he thought, watching those delectably long fingers of Colin’s start sorting through the incoming. _Any minute now…_

♦

Colin looked baffled. Bradley surreptitiously watched him read through what was printed on the single sheet of paper, cast his gaze over it again, turn the paper to find the other side blank, pick up the envelope to find it likewise devoid of any clues other than Colin’s own name, also printed. Colin started reading again with a frown.

Bradley couldn’t restrain himself any longer. ‘What’s that?’

‘Um… Dunno, quite.’

‘Fan letter?’

Colin shook his head. ‘Not like any I’ve ever seen before. And it just came in the internal mail.’

‘Valentine?’

‘Yeah, I guess. From some idiot with a thesaurus.’

‘Oh, that’s hardly fair!’ Bradley exclaimed. ‘Um, _right_. That’s hardly right.’

‘What?’

‘Well… everyone knows that dinosaurs became extinct, like, in the early nineteen–seventies.’

He won a chuckle for that. ‘Thesaurus Rex,’ Colin murmured whimsically.

‘Here,’ Bradley demanded, reaching for the letter. ‘Let me have a read.’ And he pored over it thoughtfully, as if seeing it for the first time.

>   
> _Colin,_
> 
>  _There is no one else like you in the whole world. I am a very common sort, but I can see clearly enough to know that you are unique._
> 
>  _Unique, as in distinctive. Unusual. Idiosyncratic – unconventional, unexpected, fascinatingly strange. Lone – but, if you’ll have me, not solitary._
> 
>  _Unique, as in remarkable. Extraordinary. Unsurpassed. Incomparable._
> 
>  _Will you have me, Colin? Will you be mine? If I was given one wish only in my life that would be granted, it would be that you’d answer yes._
> 
>  _If I was given a second wish, it would be that you could see me as clearly as I see you. I have always known that I could love someone with all my heart and soul. I have searched for that person, and I have found you. If you could see me clearly, Colin, I trust that you would answer yes._
> 
>  _If I was given a third wish – What then?_

‘Who –’ Bradley had to take a moment to find his voice. ‘Who’s your admirer?’

‘Dunno,’ Colin said, taking the letter back. He put it down on the pile of other papers he’d been given, and his attention turned to Julian who was finally getting the day’s discussions underway. But Bradley noticed that Colin’s hand returned to the sheet of paper, and absently smoothed it out where it had been folded in three. Later, his fingertips seemed to trace over certain words. _Will you have me, Colin? Will you be mine?_ And, Bradley thought, he lingered over the very last question. _What then?_

♦

‘Did you work out who it was?’ Bradley asked him at the end of the day.

‘What? Work out who what was?’ Colin seemed genuinely blank.

‘Oh.’ How utterly deflating. ‘That letter this morning. Did you work out who it was from?’

‘Nah,’ Colin replied dismissively, as if he hadn’t after all been pondering it all day and getting more and more intrigued.

‘Well, uh…’ There was no harm in trying to make the rest of the plan happen, Bradley supposed. It would make an amusing story to tell their grandkids. ‘Well, what are you doing tonight? Wanna let me take you out for dinner?’

‘Oh – no, there’s a group of us going out. The single guys, you know? Just for a drink or two. Or twenty maybe.’ Something belatedly occurred to Colin. ‘Hey, are you seeing someone? I guess not,’ he answered himself with a cheeky grin, ‘seeing as you just asked me out. You wanna come with us?’

‘Um…’ Bradley weighed it up. At least he’d still be out with Colin on Valentine’s Day. Who knew what might happen? On the other hand, tagging along with a bunch of single guys who were defiantly going out drinking without dates would hardly be conducive to romance… ‘Uh, no. Think I’ll give it a miss. Thanks anyway.’

Colin considered him askance. ‘You sure?’

‘Yeah, I’ll, uh… Johnny gave me a totally new scene for the first ep. Massive stuff for Arthur. I guess I’ll just get up to speed on that.’

‘Well, all right, then.’ Colin seemed to be considering something, and for a moment Bradley half–hoped that he’d offer to stay in and spend the evening running lines. But, no. ‘See you in the morning, then. Don’t work too hard!’

‘Yeah, see you. Have fun!’ And Bradley turned back towards the table, and leafed sightlessly through his scripts and stuff, cos he couldn’t bear to watch Colin walk away.

♦

Instead of studying the new scene once he was back at the hotel, Bradley called to cancel the dinner reservation, threw his thesaurus in the bin, and started on another letter. He got as far as _Colin –_

* * *

‘Your second effort was much better,’ Colin assured him now.

‘See, here’s the thing,’ said Bradley. ‘Love letters should _not_ be subject to reviews. There is something about the baring of one’s heart and soul that should disarm all criticism, no matter how “constructive”.’

‘You know that I love them all. Even the first one. _Especially_ the first one,’ Colin amended with an apologetic grimace as Bradley glared at him. ‘You were trying too hard. The bits that were just you using your own words – they got through to me. Even at the time.’

‘Come here,’ said Bradley. And he kissed the man.

## two

Bradley caught the train into the heart of London that Sunday to catch up with the group of mates who’d been around since Bradley’s idea of living the dream was playing for Arsenal and finding a girl who wouldn’t dismiss him in ten minutes or less. There were a few recent additions to the group, of course, although even the newest had been around for over a decade now. And a couple of the originals had moved away to Spain or Australia. There had been one funeral, and they were probably lucky that it had been only one. But these were the friends who’d known Bradley almost forever, who knew him as well as his own family did and in some ways even better. They’d all been gobsmacked, however, to discover that Bradley had found himself in love with a man, with his co–star, with Colin Morgan, some totally unexpected scrawny Irish git with allergies, who wouldn’t even eat meat. They’d only seemed to happily adopt him once Colin had established that he could drink any one of them under the table. Bradley’s best mate Dave always claimed to have foreseen Bradley’s abrupt and ardent conversion to homosexuality, though he would never explain himself, but just nodded mysteriously as if in some way he’d known it to be inevitable all along. And every time they met, Dave would greet Bradley with a backslapping hug, and ask, _How’s the missus?_

To which Bradley would respond with, _He’s_ _utterly amazing_ , or whatever heartfelt adjectives seemed cool or appropriate at the time. On that Sunday, however, Bradley faltered. ‘He’s –’

‘Beautiful?’ Dave obligingly supplied. ‘Astonishing? Fuckin’ fantastic?’

‘Fantastic at fucking!’ the two of them chorused, an in–joke that dated so very far back in the mists of time that none of them could remember quite how it originated.

‘Yeah,’ Bradley continued in a rather wrecked whisper. ‘But he’s – old, you know? He’s getting kinda – frail.’ And he confessed, ‘We’re _both_ getting old.’

‘Happening to all of us,’ Dave observed in tones both sympathetic and bracing.

Bradley’s gaze searched Dave’s beloved worn–out but still lively face. ‘I know, but…’

‘You had it brought home to you?’ Dave was suddenly concerned. ‘Did something happen? Is he ill, did he have a fall, or –?’

‘No. No, nothing like that.’ Bradley sighed. ‘I guess I just finally realised we’re not gonna live forever. And if we’re not alive, one or both of us, then we’re not together, and then – And then –’ Bradley sighed again. He was still too much of a bloke to actually explain even to his best friend that Colin wasn’t just Bradley’s other half, but Bradley’s whole. If there was no Colin any more, there’d be no Bradley. Simple as that. If it hadn’t always been so – though Bradley suspected it might have been – it was certainly true now after sharing almost all of their lives with each other.

‘You’ll be together,’ said Dave, ‘forever. That’s the way it works.’

Bradley shrugged. ‘I don’t believe in – heaven. An afterlife. Immortal souls. Whatever. I don’t even believe in ghosts. Old is old, and – and dead is – dead is _gone_.’

‘The way I see it, we’re all matter and energy, right? Everything in the whole universe is matter and energy. You remember our science classes back in school? Physics, yeah?’

That drew a belly laugh from Bradley. ‘I really don’t.’

‘Well, the point is – nothing gets lost. It only changes. So no matter what, your atoms and his atoms are gonna be together. Your energies and his. In one form or another. Maybe one day you’ll even get remade in such ways that you can bonk each other’s brains out all over again. But you’ll both always be here together. Until the whole damned universe ends.’ Dave spread his hands as if to say, _There you go. What’s to worry about?_

Bradley laughed a bit breathlessly. ‘Never knew you were such a romantic, mate.’

‘Maybe that’s the only thing I learned in school. It’s pretty much the only thing that stuck. Cos it made so much sense to me. When, you know – church didn’t.’ Dave rolled his shoulders back in a kind of half–shrug. ‘Look, you and Ken are the only ones who got it right. You and Colin, Kendrick and Emily. The rest of us managed nothing but separations and divorces, and –’

‘Your kids, mate,’ Bradley demurred. ‘Tom and Alex are awesome.’

Dave couldn’t help but smile. ‘Cheers. Yeah, they are. And, yeah – Sue and I managed to stuff up everything but the children, and maybe that means actually we didn’t fail at all. But when it comes to love and stuff… Well, we could all learn a lot from you. You got it _right_.’

Bradley stared hard at the beer on the table before him. He had both hands gripping the wet glass, as if in hanging on he might prevent any more tears forming in his treacherous eyes. Eventually he managed, ‘You said – You said everything changes. But I don’t want it to. I’ve – I’ve loved my life. I’ve liked living it _so damned much_.’

‘I know. I know. But something can be perfect without lasting forever. The fact that it has to end doesn’t mean it isn’t perfect in its own right, for its own sake. Yeah?’

 _‘Oh…’_ he moaned in grief, hardly able to bear it.

And Dave offered – though later Bradley thought that maybe Dave had just been humouring him. Dave offered, ‘Well, maybe the kind of love you have is the one thing that _doesn’t_ change.’

♦

Bradley got home as the lingering early summer dusk finally faded. The house was open but dark, so the first place he checked for Colin was out the back in the Sun Trap – though the evening was already far too cool for a man who was nothing but skin and bones to be outside, and he would have received a stern reprimand. Perhaps luckily for Colin’s sense of dignity, he wasn’t there, his recliner was empty. Bradley took a quick look around the living areas inside, and then headed upstairs to their bedroom, thinking Colin must have decided on a nap. Nothing. Their bed was empty, and still neatly made from that morning. He wasn’t in his study either – not stretched out with a book, not at his computer. There were no lights on _anywhere_. Bradley frowned hard, trying not to let his imagination run away into horrible scenarios of Colin having gone for a stroll and managing to trip over his own adorably clumsy feet, lying somewhere like nothing more than a pile of discarded clothes in an anonymous country lane, and no one would be able to find him until it was too late. Perhaps – Bradley checked his phone again, though he knew he would have noticed any incoming calls. Perhaps a friend had come to collect Colin for an impromptu outing, and there’d just been no chance to leave a message. Perhaps –

‘Colin!’ Bradley called out, feeling a bit foolish but also a bit scared. _‘Colin!’_

He was just about to jog downstairs again when there was the tiniest noise – a splash or maybe a whimper. Bradley’s head came up, and he stared at the bathroom door. It was closed. Why hadn’t he noticed that before? They always left all the doors open unless one of them needed privacy. He strode towards the bathroom, pushed open the door – it was dark – palmed on the light –

Blue eyes gazing at him, wide, terrified – Colin lying in the bath, submerged almost up to his nose – mouth pressed tightly closed under the water, and all of him completely tense, like any moment now he wasn’t gonna be able to hold himself out of the water any longer, and he’d slide down, he couldn’t stop himself –

And he’d drown.

‘Oh, _Colin…_ ’ Bradley was crouched by the bath a moment later, reaching arms around the man’s torso, helping him sit up in a confusion of stiffened limbs and water splashing everywhere, and god it was _freezing_ cold.

Colin noisily gulping in air and gasping it out, wheezing a bit, his hands clutching in a panic at Bradley’s arms and shoulders – ‘don’t let me go – don’t let go – don’t let me go –’

‘It’s all right, I’ve got you, I’ve got you. Here, let me –’

‘No! _No!_ ’

‘It’s all right, I’ve got you,’ he repeated, securing one arm around Colin’s back in reassurance – so tightly it probably hurt a little. ‘I’m just gonna reach for the plug, all right? You’re perfectly safe now.’

The water started draining away, and Colin suddenly started shaking – with nerves, with cold. His skin, already wrinkled with age, was sodden and white.

‘God, how long have you been in there?’

‘I came up – about – five.’

 _Hours_ , oh god. _Hours_. ‘What happened?’

‘Bradley –’

‘All right,’ he soothed. ‘It’s all right now…’ Once the water was almost gone, he reached for a towel and wrapped it around Colin’s shoulders. Between them, they got Colin’s legs bent, and his feet braced against the bottom of the bath. ‘I’m gonna lift you out of there, all right?’ Bradley said, as he secured his other arm under Colin’s knees.

‘I’m too heavy.’

‘Bag o’ bones like you? Nah…’

‘Bradley –’

‘Trust me. For you, Colin Morgan, I’m as strong as Superman. I am your own personal superhero.’ At which assertion Colin looked at him doubtingly, but his woebegone face was so adorable that all Bradley could do was laugh. ‘All right. You hang onto my shoulders, tight as you can, and we’ll do this together. Ready?’ Colin’s thin arms wound around Bradley, and the man tucked his face in hard to Bradley’s throat. He’d be prised away about as easily as a limpet on a rock. ‘All right. Here we go. One, two, _three_  –’

Bradley heaved, and Colin gave a shove with his feet – and between them they slid him up the side of the bath, and over the edge, and then basically they collapsed onto the floor with Colin safely cradled in Bradley’s lap.

‘See? Perfect. What a team. Maybe we’re both superheroes…’ But Colin wasn’t ready yet to be comforted. He clung on as tight as ever, so Bradley grabbed another towel, and dried all he could reach of the man as thoroughly as he could. ‘All right… Now, you’re gonna have to let go, and we’re gonna walk together to the bedroom. Can you manage that?’

‘Yeah,’ Colin replied with a heavy sigh, as if he was already rallying enough to feel chagrined at where he found himself. And they started levering themselves up off the floor.

♦

Colin kept his face averted while Bradley dressed him, first in a t–shirt and boxers, then in his thickest winter pyjamas, and then in two pairs of socks. Once Colin was settled snugly in their bed, Bradley fetched two extra blankets and arranged them over him – then stripped off his own damp clothes, and got in, naked, shifting over to wrap himself around Colin as tightly as possible.

‘My own personal superhero wants his reward, does he?’ Colin quipped a bit sourly.

‘One of my super powers is, uh… super–radiant body heat. It’s your lucky day, Colin Morgan.’

Colin was silent for a long while. But when he finally stopped shivering, he said in a very small voice, ‘Thank you.’

‘No,’ said Bradley. ‘No. You don’t have to thank me. I have to apologise.’

‘What for?’ And Colin said lightly, ‘I’m pretty sure you just saved my life, actually.’

‘But I shouldn’t have let that happen. I should have been here.’ Bradley pressed his face into Colin’s thick hair. ‘I’m sorry. I am _so fucking sorry._ I’ll never leave you alone again.’

Colin gave a frustrated little growl. ‘You’re allowed to go see your friends, you know!’

‘Not if it means –’

‘Maybe I’ll just never take a bath again!’

‘Not alone, anyway. Oddly enough, I  _do_ want you to wash. It makes the rest of our lives so much more pleasant.’

‘Fine. You can get in, too, and then we’ll both end up drowned in our own bathwater.’

Bradley had to chuckle at this rather domestic yet tawdry end. ‘I guess there are worse ways to go.’

‘Bradley…’

‘Yeah?’

Colin fell silent again. But eventually he said, very quietly, ‘Reached my use–by date a while ago. But lying there – I wasn’t ready yet. I couldn’t leave you.’

‘No,’ whispered Bradley, his heart hammering, his blood thumping. ‘No, of course not. You mustn’t leave me.’

‘I didn’t. I waited. I knew you’d come home.’ And he added whimsically, ‘I choose life.’

‘Yes,’ said Bradley, crushing him up closer still. ‘Yes, my darlin’ man.’

‘Do me a favour?’

‘Course. Anything.’

‘The rest of me’s fine now, but my bits are still cold. Give me your hand… Don’t be alarmed. They’re very little bits at the moment. But they’ll un–shrivel soon enough with your encouragement.’

And so the two of them lay there pressed up as close together as they possibly could, basking in their shared warmth, with Bradley’s hand cupping Colin’s quiescent genitals through his pyjamas and Colin’s hand tucked in over his. And Bradley nuzzled the nape of that lovely long neck, and he silently whispered, _Don’t ever leave me. Don’t ever leave._

And Colin promised, ‘I won’t.’

‘If you leave me, I’m coming, too.’

‘Oh, my sweet darlin’ man…’ And maybe they both wept a little in the aftermath of such a horrible shock.

### Hollywood

Bradley hadn’t really wanted to go, but Colin encouraged him, and in the end he went to the US because Colin would have – serious, ambitious Colin Morgan – and Bradley was too competitive not to pursue his own ambitions. It was silly, really. But then, two such lucrative offers weren’t to be sneezed at. He and Colin decided oh–so–pragmatically that they would separate, because first there was the film which would take Bradley to Oregon for seven weeks, and then two seasons guaranteed of a tv series with production based in Los Angeles and Vancouver – and of course that meant a hectic schedule of twenty–two episodes per year, instead of _Merlin_ ’s thirteen.

Colin, meanwhile, was based in the UK and Ireland, juggling stage productions and studio films with ludicrously small independent projects. Bradley had been determined to turn his back on the man, damn him, but within twenty–four hours of landing in LA he was already cyber–stalking him, keeping track of all his work, all the events he attended.

Despite the separation, Bradley found himself strangely uninterested in anyone else, though there was plenty of opportunity. It was surprisingly easy to find excuses, and anyway his libido seemed to have taken a long–deserved holiday. But he met up with Katie McGrath once at a swank party on the rooftop of a downtown skyscraper, and found himself kissing her, giddy and passionate and insistent. She even went with it for a while, as if it were something they’d both wanted for a long while, but then she’d resisted – and to his lasting shame he became a little too forceful, almost crossing the line.

She was merciless in response, of course. ‘I’m not who you want, Bradley.’

‘You’ll do just fine for tonight, I promise you.’

‘I might be skinny, dark–haired and Irish, but I can’t be Colin for you. Not even with a strap–on. Not even for one night.’

He pulled away as if he’d been slapped – backed away one step and then another –

– and she’d panicked – reached to grasp the lapels of his tux in both hands, though he found the railing impassable at his back a moment later. ‘I’m sorry,’ he’d offered, shocked to his senses.

‘Idiot,’ she said, with scathing fondness.

And they were friends again.

>  _Colin,_
> 
>  _We were together for five years, and I loved you for a year before that. I’ve loved you for a year since. That’s ten years of friendship, and seven of love. I **miss** you. I’ve missed you for a year now. Sometimes I wonder whether I even exist without you. It has been the longest year of my life. I work hard, and my efforts are appreciated. I make new friends, and they treat me well. I am recognised in different ways. This country suits me, and it has been gratifying to live here. But no one seems to realise that I am doing nothing more than going through the motions. No one sees me as clearly as you. I miss you. I miss your honesty whether harsh or kind, your high expectations and your good opinion, your absolute weirdness and your utter reliability. I miss your body, your energy, your thoughts, your voice, your infinite range of smiles. I wish you were in my bed every night, sharing my breakfast every morning, helping me work things out at the end of the day. I miss you. I miss the person I am when you’re with me. I wish –_
> 
>  _I wish you well, Colin. And I wish I had the courage to send this to you._

As soon as he’d filmed his last scene for the second season of the tv series, Bradley caught flights to Heathrow via Boston. He didn’t even stay for the wrap party, though that was a terrible faux pas for which he would not be forgiven. The plane landed as dawn revealed a grey, drizzly, quintessentially English day. For better or worse, he was home. He’d already gotten Colin’s address from Katie, and made her promise not to warn the man. He simply took a cab directly there, and was knocking on Colin’s front door at about ten past eight.

A rather bleary Colin answered, and was obviously stunned to see him. A slow wandering gaze took in Bradley’s dishevelled demeanour, the large suitcase at his side with the LHR sticker still attached to the handle, the no doubt raw and uncertain expression on his face. Then Colin turned his head for a moment, grimacing even as he seemed to glance back over his shoulder – and Bradley’s stomach plummeted as he realised he’d misjudged, and there was already someone in Colin’s bed.

But then Colin stepped back, his face clearing like a storm had passed, and he beckoned him in – and a moment later they were in each other’s arms, kissing, having still not exchanged a word. When they were done, Bradley pressed the letter he’d written a year before into Colin’s hands – Colin frowned as he scanned it quickly yet thoroughly, as if committing his most vital lines to heart and mind, knowing he’d have to deliver the performance of his life a moment later. When Colin looked up again, those startling blue eyes were warm and damp, both demanding and surrendering. And then – then, perhaps not even five minutes after Bradley had first rapped his knuckles on Colin’s door, he was discovering for himself that the only someone in Colin Morgan’s bed was Bradley James himself.

♦

Eventually Colin went to make them coffee and toast, and they each took the opportunity to refresh and regroup. But they both returned to the bed. There was no question of that. Bradley sat up against the headboard, while Colin settled cross–legged beside him, facing him naked and unashamed. ‘You got any plans for the day?’ Bradley asked in between impatient sips of the too–hot coffee.

‘No.’

‘What are the chances of happening upon Colin Morgan on a day off?’

Colin shrugged. ‘I _had_ plans. They just got cancelled. Something came up.’

Bradley snorted softly. ‘What about the rest of your life? Any plans?’

‘Being with you, I should think,’ Colin replied, just very easily and undramatically.

‘Good,’ said Bradley when he had the breath for it. ‘That’s good.’

After a brief silence, Colin asked, just casually as if he didn’t really care, ‘Have you been with other people?’

Though even then Bradley hadn’t quite learned his lesson. ‘Hundreds.’

‘Liar.’

‘Thousands, then. Hollywood orgies, you know… You tend to lose count.’

‘Sure…’

Despite himself, Bradley got irritable. ‘You tell me, then. How many?’

‘None,’ said Colin, with absolute confidence.

Bradley flushed with shame, grief, mortification. He was such a loser. Then something occurred to him. ‘Wait. Are you talking about you or me?’

‘Both,’ Colin replied.

Astonishing. ‘It’s been _two years_.’

‘I know.’

‘Oh god,’ Bradley cried distraught, sitting up to hug his knees to his chest, to press the warmth of his mug against his forehead. Needing comfort. ‘Why did you make me go, then?’

‘I thought you wanted to.’

‘Oh, you _idiot_. You stupid – great – fucking – moronic – _idiot_.’

‘Bradley –’ Colin said, sounding as if his breath was stuck in his throat. ‘Bradley, I love –’

Bradley barely managed to put his mug of coffee down safely before he fell on the man.

* * *

They were drawn back together as if it were an inevitable matter of gravity. It wasn’t always easy, of course, but they found ways of being a couple while managing diverging careers which might take them anywhere in the world. They hadn’t married in the end, despite each of them proposing at different times, but instead in the early days of Bradley’s return they bought the house that had been their home ever since. A symbol of all they wanted from each other and for each other. A solid reality to which they would both always return. By that time, Bradley was earning enough that money wasn’t an issue, and Colin would have been, too, if he wasn’t always drawn to these weird independent projects, most of which weren’t even critically acclaimed. And no matter how difficult things became between them, they never spoke of separation ever again.

## three

Their home was pretty massive, but it had always sheltered just the two of them. There were two guest bedrooms fully furnished, but they’d only ever been used for a night or two, a week at most. Colin liked having his own space, his own quiet sense of peace – and Bradley liked being with Colin. Nevertheless, as they both soaked up the summer sun one afternoon under branches slowly growing heavy with apples, Bradley said, ‘We really should think about having someone live here with us.’

Colin just scowled at him.

‘It’s time to accept the inevitable.’

‘Is this about –?’ Of course Colin was still humiliated by the incident, still angry with himself, still clinging with an air of bravado to his independence.

‘The bath thing, yes.’ But Bradley quickly continued, ‘It’s not just you, anyway. It’s me, too. _I_  was the one who put on a pot of water to cook the pasta, and forgot all about it until it boiled dry and set the alarms off. Remember?’

‘ _Yes_ , I remember,’ he responded irritably. ‘The memory’s still working, thank you. Mostly.’

‘If we’re gonna keep having senior moments – and you know we are,’ Bradley insisted, forestalling Colin’s protest – ‘then we need a companion.’

‘I don’t want anyone here but us. I like it this way, Bradley.’

‘I know you do. And I like it, too. But if we want this to last for as long as possible, then maybe we need to admit we could use some help.’ Bradley shrugged. ‘It’s not like we don’t already get Sam in to clean each week.’

‘That’s different and you know it.’

‘All right, it’s different. But you know what I’m getting at.’

Colin sighed, and considered all this for a while. He scrunched up his face. ‘I don’t wanna just employ some – some _stranger_ , have some kind of _servant_ living here. That would be… too weird.’

‘No, I meant – ask someone we know. Someone we’d be comfortable with. Like a _ménage_ _à_ _trois_  – Not like _that!_ ’ he quickly added when Colin raised an eyebrow.

‘Bradley James. Are you trying to introduce your toy boy into the household?’

‘Idiot,’ Bradley grumbled. ‘Like I don’t have enough demands to cope with already from _you_ , without running around after some young thing as well…’

Well, at least Colin was grinning at him in amusement now. ‘All right,’ he eventually grudgingly agreed. ‘What were you thinking?’

‘It’s not like we don’t have enough nieces and nephews to form our own cricket team. And a long list of godchildren.’

The frown returned. ‘They have their own lives, Bradley. Their own homes.’

‘Guilbert doesn’t.’

‘You can’t stand Guilbert!’

Bradley sighed. It was true. He’d been doomed to never get along with Guilbert, and it went right back to when his otherwise beloved older sister announced not only a late, unexpected and potentially dangerous pregnancy, but also what the boy’s name would be. _You can’t call a child that!_ Bradley had protested. _He’ll grow up completely twisted._ But Guilbert it was. Guilbert Arthur, just to rub salt in the psychic wounds. _Don’t ever say I didn’t warn you._

Colin was mystified. ‘You know I’d be happy to have Guilbert here if he wanted to come, but he’s the only member of your entire family you don’t get along with.’

‘I know,’ Bradley argued, ‘and he can’t stand me either. But he meets the only real criteria.’

‘What?’

‘He adores _you_. I’d trust him to look after you, no matter what.’

‘Oh, Bradley…’ Colin turned towards him, curling up on his recliner – reached to grasp Bradley’s hand, rubbed cool fingers over his sun–warmed skin. After a moment Colin offered, ‘You’re the same, you and Guilbert. Except for the age difference, you could be identical twins. _That’s_ the reason you don’t get on.’

‘Well, I never liked myself very much,’ said Bradley stiffly, ‘so if we’re twins, why should I like him?’

‘Bradley, my love should have mattered more to you. Far more than this.’

Bradley sat up and swung around to Colin, planting his feet on the ground, absolutely outraged. _‘How can you say that?’_ he demanded. ‘Your love has been the single most important thing in my _life!_ ’

‘There’s so very much of it, it should have rubbed off on you. _Don’t_ smirk, you moron. I love you so much that you should have been able to love yourself as well.’

They sat there for a while in the sunshine, Colin curled up towards Bradley, and Bradley sitting there with his head bowed over Colin’s hand held fast in both of his. Eventually Bradley said, just very lightly, ‘I love _you_. With everything I have. There’s nothing left over for me. That’s all.’

‘Bradley…’ Colin whispered on a sigh. Then he said, ‘If you really think it’s time. We’ll ask Guilbert here. For a few days or a week, this summer. See how we all get on.’

‘Thank you.’ Very lightly, but from the heart.

‘Sound him out before popping the question. He’s still so young! He might not _want_ to live so far from town, Bradley.’

‘It’s only a half–hour on the train.’

‘Bradley. You have to let him say no if that’s what he wants.’

He nodded reluctantly, and they both sighed. ‘Yeah, I know.’

### Knighthood

It came completely out of the blue, but Bradley knew what it was as soon as he saw the envelope addressed to Colin with _10 Downing Street_ printed neatly on the back. He carried it in just the fingertips of both hands, almost tiptoeing up the stairs, and he offered it reverentially to Colin. ‘Look,’ he whispered in awe. ‘Look what just arrived.’

Colin was stretched out on the long sofa in his study, surrounded by open books, scripts and scribbled pages. He cast a sour look at the envelope, and then deliberately finished what he was writing before setting his notepad aside and capping his pen. ‘Why don’t you open it?’ he asked distantly, drawing his legs up a bit.

‘No. No, _you_ have to. It’s for _you_.’

‘I know what it is.’

‘Oh, Colin! It’s wonderful! Wait –’ Bradley stumbled a moment. ‘You knew? Why didn’t you tell me?’

Colin just shrugged, and turned away a little to emphasise his disillusioned sprawl. ‘I know who put my name forward. I told her not to.’

‘But, why?’ Bradley drew the precious envelope back close to his chest, wanting to protect it from the cool reception of the man it was intended to honour. ‘I mean, it’s a knighthood, right? Not just one of those things with letters after your name. You’re going to be Sir Colin…?’ He grinned in delight at the very thought, and performed his most elaborate bow. ‘Sir Colin.’

‘Idiot,’ the man responded with reluctant fondness.

‘It’s marvellous. I thought we’d have to wait years yet!’

‘We?’ Colin echoed. ‘What’s it to do with you?’

All right, that took Bradley aback, but a moment later he drew himself up into a dignified pose. ‘Well, if you’ll finally marry me, you blackguard, I’ll be Lady Morgan!’

Colin snorted, collapsed into a belly laugh, and had to sit up properly to re–gather his breath. Eventually he patted the sofa, an arm’s length away. ‘Sit down, Bradley.’ Then he buried his face in both hands for a long moment, and rubbed his palms back over his hair, before turning to look directly at Bradley. ‘I’m not gonna accept it. I’m Irish, remember?’

Bradley just stared at him. Eventually found his voice. ‘ _Northern_ Irish. Living and working in _England_. They’re your Royal Family, too!’

Colin sketched a grin that looked more like a grimace. ‘I didn’t vote for them.’

‘It’s an _honour_. They want to _honour_ you. Don’t you realise how much – how very much you’re _respected_ , for everything you are, everything you’ve done –’

‘I don’t care, Bradley. I don’t want it.’

He stood. Walked to the door. Put the envelope down on the nearest bookshelf. ‘Just in case.’

‘Bradley…’ A long moment. And then he offered, ‘You’ll always be Lady Morgan to me.’

Bradley sniffed. ‘Not if I don’t marry you, I won’t be.’ And he turned and flounced out.

Colin groaned, and called after him, ‘What’s this got to do with you anyway? Why do you care so much?’

>  _Colin,_
> 
>  _You are the most amazing person in the world. I can see that so clearly. Beyond a certain point, you have always been a private person, and I have had the privilege of seeing so much more of you than anyone else._
> 
>  _However, other people know you are wonderful. Family and friends, obviously. People in the industry. Audiences and fans. You have been nominated for and won three awards for your acting. That is not enough. And now you are writing, too – the most amazing stuff._
> 
>  _You deserve so much more. You deserve the recognition of countries. Leaders of nations and the people they represent. You deserve titles and riches._
> 
>  _You aren’t just talented – you are a genius. You aren’t just gorgeous – you are the most beautiful creature on the planet. You don’t just embody decency and kindness and integrity – you are the very best of us._
> 
>  _Is it so hard to understand that I don’t want to be the only person who sees and tells these truths?_

When Colin came to find him a while later, Bradley was lingering by the display cabinet in the entertainment room. Colin hadn’t wanted the awards in his study, or indeed in the bathroom which was the usual choice of the more modest winners – either location would make him feel self–conscious in different ways, he explained – so Bradley had put them here, where Colin didn’t even need to look at them cos the sofa they always shared when watching the tv had its back to the cabinet. Bradley ran fingertips lightly over the glass doors, considering the Caron Keating Award, the BAFTA for Leading Actor in television, and the IFTA for Actor in a Lead Role in film. Wonderful and of course well deserved, but only a start. The light dimmed, and then he saw Colin’s reflection looming over his shoulder.

‘Bradley –’

He turned, and pressed the hastily scrawled letter into Colin’s hands. Colin read it quickly, and looked up – but before he could offer anything, Bradley said, ‘I want the King to tell you you’re a genius, too. That’s all.’

Colin ducked his head, trying to hide a grin. ‘Well, at least Charles is more likely to do that than tell me I’m the most beautiful creature on the planet.’

‘More fool him, then.’

‘Look. I just didn’t get into it for all that kind of stuff. You know that. The fame and fortune. The awards. Not even for the fans, though they kinda grew on me. A lot. But all I want is to act, and to write. Maybe help produce again, on the right projects, if I’m needed – I actually really enjoyed working with Brek last year. But what I _want_ is to pursue my craft.’

‘It doesn’t _work_ like that. It can’t be that isolated. Not even when you’re just writing in your… ivory tower.’ Bradley sighed, and reminded him, ‘You do the promotional stuff, even though you don’t enjoy it.’

‘I know, but that’s different to seeking honours – or accepting them, if I don’t have to.’

‘Colin –’

‘Come and sit down.’ Moments later Bradley was slumped back on the sofa, and Colin was perched on the coffee table, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. ‘Look, I’m pretty happy about those awards, to be honest, cos despite all the crap that surrounds them, they’re basically the recognition of my peers. Yeah?’

Bradley nodded mutely. He got that.

‘But a knighthood is a very different thing. You and I grew up in different places. I know we’re both British, but before that – _way_ before that – I’m Irish. You’re English. I am gonna be… _so fucking stoked_ when you’re made Sir Bradley. I’m gonna be beside you all the way. I’ll be dancing with joy all round Buckingham Palace until they finally have to warn you to make me behave. But _my country_  –’ Colin rapped knuckles against his own chest, over his heart – ‘has nothing to do with the British monarchy, and certainly not the British army, or _any_ of that.’

Bradley thought about that for a long while, and Colin let him. Eventually he said, ‘You had the happiest childhood I’ve ever heard about. Are you gonna tell me it would have been any different if Armagh was south of the border?’

‘Well, no. No. It was fucking idyllic, and I’m not gonna pretend otherwise. But there’s a principle involved, an idea. A fact. A loyalty.’

‘An identification.’

‘Yeah. And it goes too deep, Bradley. I can’t accept what they’re offering. Not even for you.’

‘I don’t want you to do it for me.’

‘I know, but that’s the only reason I even thought about it.’

Bradley stared at the man.

‘Look. It’s about the craft. But this –’ Colin brandished Bradley’s letter between them – ‘ _this_ is more than enough in return. This is the recognition that matters most. The fact that you –’

 _‘Oh…’_ Bradley had pushed forward and was kissing the man, mouth passionate and generous, hungry and loving. ‘Colin – Colin –’ as he slid down onto the floor, kneeling up between Colin’s parted thighs, pressing in close.

‘Bradley, I – I –’ Their mouths meshed again and then Bradley was kissing and biting down that long pale throat. ‘Bradley – I’m taking you to bed. Then you’re – _god!_ ’ as Bradley’s tongue rasped across the tender spot just above Colin’s collarbone. Bradley’s hands ran down Colin’s back, and then grasped his hips, tugged him closer. ‘God, _yes!_ You’re gonna – _fuck_ me. And when you’re as deep inside me as you can get, you’re gonna gaze down at me – into me – with this – this – _look_  –’ Colin groaned gutturally as Bradley mouthed back up to find his earlobe, and then the sensitive place just behind it.

‘What look?’ Bradley whispered.

Colin’s hands were still on Bradley’s face and shoulders, as if wary of venturing further. ‘This – this look of _adoration_ – as if you _adore_ me –’

‘I adore you, yes.’

‘Bradley – Bradley – I never thought anyone could _ever_ look at me like that. Not _me_.’

‘I _adore_ you,’ he repeated. ‘You’re the most amazing thing –’

‘I don’t want anything more than that, Bradley. I don’t want anything other than _you_.’

* * *

Colin shuffled into the entertainment room one evening, settled beside Bradley on the sofa, and shook his head when Bradley quirked a querying eyebrow at him. So, they sat there together, silently watching the end of the film – the last one Joss Whedon ever made – and then when the credits rolled, Colin got up and went to fetch the box in which he kept all the letters that Bradley had written to him. The box was in the display cabinet along with the awards and things they’d both collected over the years, and had been ever since that day on which Colin announced he was turning down the offer of a knighthood. Colin came back to the sofa, and sat with the box on his lap, his long–fingered hands wrapped around each end of it. ‘Would you do something for me?’ he asked.

‘Anything.’ Bradley’s heart was hammering. He suspected this was going to be about mingling Colin’s ashes with the letters in some way when he was gone, and frankly Bradley just didn’t want to even think about that right now.

‘Would you read these to me? From the start, in order. I’ve never heard them in your voice, other than a few random ones.’

‘Oh.’ _Thank god!_ ‘Yes, of course. If you –’ Bradley shrugged. ‘Well, if you can bear it. I mean, _you’re_ the writer. I was just… driven to it. Cos there wasn’t any other way.’

Colin grinned, and shook his head. ‘When you were writing from your heart… I never achieved anything that eloquent.’

Bradley had already reached for the box, and drawn out the first one. It had faded coffee stains down it, and the ink had run, but it was still legible. ‘Yeah, it was _so_ eloquent that you threw it out.’

‘I didn’t know who it was from!’ Colin protested. ‘I mean, it did actually get through to me at the time, but that just made it seem kind of… dangerous.’ Colin’s grin suddenly returned in full measure. ‘Idiot. I’ve already apologised for that. And it wasn’t exactly my fault in the first place.’

Bradley chuckled, having already forgiven him, of course, a long time ago. ‘At least I could prove they were from me – giving them all back to you when you finally came to your senses.’

An inelegant snort greeted this. ‘How creepy would that be? If you’d have gone around fishing someone else’s love letters out of bins, just to claim them as yours…’

‘Oh yeah,’ he complained. ‘The things I’ve done to intrigue you, Colin Morgan, the lengths I’ve gone to…’ And into the sudden silence, he began: ‘ _Colin, There is no one else like you –_ ’

‘No, wait – Wait! Let me get settled first.’ And there was some quite unnecessary faffing around down the other end of the sofa – except then Colin swung his legs up so that the soles of his feet pressed against Bradley’s thigh, cool despite the thick socks he was wearing. Bradley lowered his free hand to wrap around one of them, to rub his thumb up along the arch. Colin moaned a little in appreciation, but then he prodded Bradley with the big toe of his other foot. ‘Read to me. I’m ready now.’

Bradley cast him a look that was meant to be impatient, and was probably nothing more than fond. And he began again. ‘ _Colin –_ ’

♦

‘How come you never signed them?’

‘Well, the first seven were meant to be anonymous.’

‘Yeah, but after that.’

Bradley shrugged. ‘Dunno. Um… They were meant to be about you, I guess. Not me.’

Colin looked at him. ‘One day… I want you to write one about _us_. And then you’ll have to sign it. Yeah?’

‘Yeah, I guess…’ He turned to look at the man. ‘I love you. You know that, right?’

‘Yeah, I know that,’ Colin whispered. ‘My own darlin’ man.’

♦

It was getting late, and they were only about a third of the way through. Bradley finished, ‘ _Is it so hard to understand that I don’t want to be the only person who sees and tells these truths?_ ’ and he put the letter back in the box, and they were silent for a moment. ‘Shall we save the rest for tomorrow?’

‘Sure.’ Colin kind of kneaded Bradley’s thigh with his toes, as if he were a cat. Then he waved an airy hand at the display cabinet, and said, ‘We ended up doing all right, didn’t we, Sir Bradley?’

‘Certainly, Lady James.’

Colin growled at him. ‘Prat. You won more Oscars.’

‘You won more BAFTAs. And what was that weird Australian thing you won?’

‘That was you!’

‘Was it?’ Bradley murmured with a frown. ‘Oh. Didn’t it entitle me to a lifetime’s worth of vegemite?’

‘Yeah, like, one jar was plenty…’

Bradley chuckled. ‘I lost count of all your IFTAs.’

‘Would have thought you’d become eligible, too, after loving an Irishman for more than a decade. Aren’t many who could claim as much.’

‘It was worth a try,’ Bradley stoically replied.

‘Anyway. You won more hearts.’

Bradley shrugged. ‘Hearts are fickle. You won their minds, and that’s where the real loyalty is.’

‘Honours even,’ offered Colin with a sweet little smile.

‘Honours even,’ Bradley grudgingly agreed. He put the box of letters aside, and shifted around so he could start gently massaging Colin’s feet. ‘How come your extremities are always so cold? It’s a wonder your feet, hands and ears aren’t covered in permafrost.’

‘Ha ha,’ said Colin. ‘You know which meant the most? Of the awards, I mean,’ he hastily added as soon as Bradley opened his mouth.

‘Oh. Yeah. Me adoring you.’

Colin cast him a droll look. ‘All right, the second best thing after that, though it pales into such insignificance compared to the adoration that it’s hardly worth even mentioning.’

‘What’s that, then?’

‘The one I got for writing. Cos the acting was always part of me, you know? Not that I didn’t work hard, but it came as natural as breathing. I had to _learn_ the writing.’

‘And you’re a genius at that, too.’

‘God, you are so totally biased!’ Colin smiled at him fondly. ‘Come to bed.’

## four

Bradley walked into Colin’s study, intending to ask him something innocuous about lunch, and found the man standing nowhere in particular, with a dauntingly thick novel in his hands. Having often surprised Colin stranded in mid–ponder, Bradley wouldn’t have thought twice about it except there was something about the wide panicked blue eyes that reminded Bradley of The Bath Incident. ‘What is it? What’s wrong? Colin –’

It seemed to take the man forever to focus on him. ‘God, Bradley –’

 _‘What’s wrong?’_ Bradley hardly dared move, for fear of making it worse, whatever it was.

Colin at last seemed to snap back into the here and now. He gestured towards a pile of books on a side table, with a couple of Amazon parcels balanced on top. ‘I still have all these new books to read. And there’s more on the way.’

Apparently that was supposed to be an explanation. ‘Uh, yeah. And…?’

‘And…’ Colin waved the thick novel at Bradley, and announced with great portent, ‘I may never read _Middlemarch_ again.’

‘Mmm,’ said Bradley, pressing his lips together to prevent himself exclaiming, _Anyone less weird than you, Morgan, might well thank god for that!_ Though to be honest, he had played Fred Vincy in a film adaptation, and enjoyed it immensely. All he’d had to read was a two–hundred page script, though.

Colin looked droll, hearing his unvoiced protest perfectly well. ‘How’re _you_ gonna feel,’ he asked, somehow both sympathetic and scathing, ‘when you realise that time’s running out, and you’ll probably never get the chance again to re–watch all ten seasons of the _Buffy_ reboot?’

Bradley wheezed in shock. What a ghastly thought! ‘Your turn to get lunch,’ he tersely responded. ‘I’ll be in the entertainment room.’

Colin’s fond chuckle rippled after him down the stairs.

### Gothic

‘And _then_ ,’ announced an unnaturally gleeful Colin, ‘we sat up all night talking about whether Marlowe or Mercury was a bigger influence on Shakespeare’s conception of Mercutio. It was just awesome!’

Bradley actually took the phone away from his ear for a moment to check the display. Maybe he’d misdialled and got put through to some horrible practical jokes hotline. But, no. Apparently not. ‘All night?’ he echoed.

‘Yeah! And _Joe_ said –’

‘So how did filming go today?’ Bradley smoothly interrupted. ‘I guess you were both pretty wrecked. I thought you were gonna have a long day out on location?’

‘Yeah. I mean, no, filming was great. Joe’s such an incredible director. He knows exactly how to coax a performance out of you – not that he needs to with me! I’m just learning _so much_ , I hardly need coaxing, you know? I can’t believe I almost turned this one down.’

‘No,’ said Bradley rather flatly. ‘Me, neither.’ And he let Colin rattle on for a while, tuning out every other sentence, cos they almost all began with _Joe said_ or _Joe thinks_ , and then concluded with a superlative about the blasted man.

This wasn’t meant to happen. It just wasn’t. Colin was in Prague, filming some Gothic period piece – a project he’d only taken on at the last moment when something else fell through, despite him always having sworn to never take a role that involved shirts with ruffles. A project to keep him occupied while Bradley was in Italy finishing off his first Bond film. Colin had been _this_ close to taking an actual holiday, and joining Bradley for the sake of three weeks wandering around Rome by day and bonking Bradley by night. Instead he was working – as bloody usual – and then spending every night with the awesome Joe, talking about academic, intellectual things, of which Bradley didn’t even grasp the essentials.

Eventually, of course, Colin noticed Bradley’s lack of participation in the conversation. ‘Um, Bradley…?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Look. I’m having fun, all right?’

‘You don’t say.’

A long pause… ‘Don’t begrudge me this, Bradley.’

Well, Bradley supposed he could simmer and sulk and build up a real head of steam. Or he could try to talk about it. The latter approach, often foolhardy in his previous relationships, seemed to work more often than not with Colin. Tall tales, yet true. ‘Well…’ he began. ‘You know…’

‘Mmm…?’ Colin prompted after another lengthy pause, with a blend of encouragement and impatience.

He had to blurt it out angrily. It was the only way. ‘I know that _His mind excites me_ is a real thing, you know!’

‘Right. And is that what excites you about all your Bond girls? Their _minds?_ ’

‘Oh, get a grip!’ he replied, absolutely disgusted. ‘You know that’s just the tabloids trying to boost their circulation.’

‘Yeah, well, maybe that’s why I didn’t come to Rome. Cos I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction!’

‘What kind of stupid reason is that? Since when did you let the newspapers dictate what you should or shouldn’t do?’

‘Since they linked you romantically with not just Georgia, but Judi Dench!’

‘We’re _friends!_ ’ Bradley protested. ‘And she’s actually really cool. She let me squire her to this benefit do the other night… which you probably read all about in _The Daily Gutter_ , right?’ Bradley took a breath, but when Colin didn’t jump in, he kept going. ‘You’re probably just jealous, cos you wanna be friends with Dame Judi, too. And guess what? If you were here, _you could have been._ ’

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake, Bradley. _I know you’re friends._ I bet you had fun at that thing – and I’m glad for you. But so are me and Joe. _Friends._ ’

And of course that was true. After a while, Bradley admitted, ‘I wanna be everything to you.’

‘Fine,’ said Colin rather tartly. ‘Go earn yourself a masters degree in literature, and we’ll talk when you get back.’

‘You bastard!’

‘Sorry,’ was the immediate response. ‘I’m sorry, Bradley, but –’ Colin never made Bradley feel inadequate. Never. He must be hurting like hell. ‘But, look. Why don’t you have any faith in me? I’ve never once cheated on you, even during those two years you were in Hollywood – and _we were on a break. For real._ ’

‘Yeah? You didn’t do anything at all?’

‘Well,’ Colin said. ‘For the sake of complete disclosure. A kiss and a cuddle once. But you kissed someone, too, I know you did.’

‘Bloody Katie. Why d’you Irish always stick together?’

‘Cos no one else sticks by us. _Do they?_ ’

A turbulent silence.

Obviously they weren’t gonna resolve anything that night. And if they kept trying maybe things would get said that it would be hard or even impossible to take back. Bradley sighed. ‘I think I’d better go. I’ll call you tomorrow.’

‘Fine.’ In very clipped tones.

‘I love you,’ he said, strained.

‘Yeah. Yeah, well, if that’s true, you’d better go rediscover your faith in me.’

‘All right,’ he said, very small.

And the phone went dead.

♦

Bradley called his best mate Dave the next day. Dave, who had recently been humbled by a miserable divorce from Sue, his wife of seven years. Dave, who fastened onto one thing in all of Bradley’s rambling confusion. ‘No one person can be everything to someone else, mate. That’s something Sue and I got wrong. She still needed her interests and her friends, I still needed mine.’

‘Even me?’ Bradley offered in weak imitation of their usual banter.

‘Strangely, yes. You gave me things that my wife just couldn’t. Or wouldn’t.’

Bradley laughed, and decided not to go there under the circumstances.

‘You get so much else right with your missus. But if you don’t let Colin have other things, other people, you’re gonna regret it, Bradley.’

‘Actually, I kinda get that. I just wish he didn’t get so excited by them, is all.’

‘I know. But the important thing is that he doesn’t _do_ anything about it, right? The excitement, I mean. The deal is, _that’s_ the bit he brings back home to you.’

‘Oh.’ It was like the proverbial light bulb switching on over Bradley’s head. ‘Right. Dave, you’re a genius.’

‘Mate, that’s what friends are for. I learn things the hard way, so _you_ don’t have to.’

>  _Colin,_
> 
>  _I’m an idiot._

As if on cue, the phone rang – and it was Colin’s name on the display. For a while it was all blurted apologies and reassurances and endearments and affection. Bradley eventually read out the letter he’d been writing. All four words of it.

Colin thought that was hilarious. ‘Keep that. You _keep_ that one, Bradley James – or send it to me. That’s going in the box.’

‘Nah, I don’t think so. I’m not going to have you haul this out and use it against me in every argument.’

‘I won’t. You know I wouldn’t, but I promise I won’t, anyway.’ And Colin said, very sincerely, ‘Cos I’ve been an idiot, too, Bradley.’

‘Have you?’ he asked softly, when only the previous night he’d have thought he’d crow from the rooftops in response to such an admission.

‘Look. Nothing happened. All right? Nothing _physical_.’

‘Then something happened in other ways,’ Bradley concluded.

‘Well. You made me realise. There’d been a line crossed. Emotionally. But nothing happened, _I swear it_ , Bradley.’

‘I believe you.’

‘I suppose – you made me see. There was a – an emotional engagement. I’d let it go a bit far. Nothing happened. But I was… reckless. I can see that now. So I was feeling a bit guilty. And stupid. And I said something really horrible to you.’

‘Don’t worry about that now.’

‘God, Bradley –’

‘No, look. I get what you’re saying. About this thing with Joe. So, can you withdraw a bit? Like, get back on the right side of the line?’

‘Yeah. Already done. He probably doesn’t even realise. Well, I guess it doesn’t matter if he realises or not. Cos it’s about me, isn’t it? And it’s about me and you.’

‘All right. Thank you. I’m glad. Thank you.’ Bradley sighed. It was fine. He felt totally drained, but he also knew that everything was just fine. ‘So, um – can you still have fun? I mean, you should. Have fun. While you can. I know you can talk to him about stuff that really interests you, and that’s actually fine. That’s the way it should be. Isn’t it.’

‘Yes,’ Colin whispered. ‘You’re a true gentleman, Bradley. You’re the perfect gentle knight.’

‘I – I love you, is all.’

‘And I love you. So much. So very much.’

* * *

He read out the shortest of his letters on the second evening. ‘ _Colin, I’m an idiot._ ’ And they had both been so secure in each other’s love for so very long by now, that the memory of those difficult weeks provoked nothing but wry laughter. They talked it through – or at least the important parts. Not the tabloid gossip, but the work they had done, and the friends they had made. They reminisced about Joe and Judi and Georgia and Dave. And then, unexpectedly, Colin started beeping.

‘Oh!’ he cried, fumbling in the side pockets of his jeans, and producing his phone. He thumbed at the main button to silence it, and peered at the display. ‘Battery’s going flat,’ he said in a fake casual tone. Because in all the kerfuffle, the little mic plug–in had been dislodged from along the back of the sofa’s seat.

‘Oh,’ said Bradley brightly. ‘Shall I fetch your recharger? Then you can keep recording. For whatever nefarious purposes you might have been doing that without telling me.’

‘Um… I can explain.’

‘Excellent. Go on, then.’

‘Well, uh. My eyesight. Isn’t what it used to be. One day I won’t be able to read your letters for myself.’

Bradley was unconvinced. ‘You’re still reading novels and great big academic tomes with teeny tiny print, so I don’t see why you’d have any problems with my clear, bold, manly hand.’

‘You write like a girl, James.’

‘Oh that’s great coming from _you_ , Morgan, with your girly tails on your Gs and your Ys.’ Bradley harrumphed. ‘Anyway, you don’t get to distract me that easy. Not yet. Well, not unless I’m having a _really_ senior moment. Which I’m not.’

Colin was quiet for a while, holding his phone in one hand and absently tapping it against his thigh. Finally he offered, ‘It’s for if I’m on my own, you know?’

‘What, like, for when I’m dead?’

‘No!’ Colin glared at him, utterly pained. ‘You’re not dying any time soon. I’ll probably go first anyway. It’s for if… if I have to… If _you_ have to, you know. Put me in a home or something. If I’m doing too many stupid things in bathtubs and suchlike.’

Bradley stared at the man, and cried heartbroken, ‘Oh! _Colin…_ ’

‘It’s only an _if_. An _in case_. That’s all.’ Colin sighed, obviously sorry he’d raised it now. ‘I just thought… it would be nice to go to sleep at night, listening to your voice telling me… telling me all these amazing things you’ve written to me over the years.’

There were tears in Bradley’s eyes, and he didn’t dare look too closely cos he suspected Colin would be much the same. ‘Look. We’ll be asking Guilbert to move in and help us out. You don’t have to worry – I mean, if it really was for your own good, I’d do it. I’d put you in a nursing home. It’d be the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, but for your sake I’d do it. But this is **_our_** _home_ , Colin. We’re gonna stay here together as long as we can. As long as there’s a way to make it work without you being in danger, yeah?’

‘Yeah,’ Colin agreed in a whisper.

‘Well.’ Bradley frowned a little, but didn’t look at the man. It was up to him. ‘Shall we keep going, now we’ve started?’

‘Yes, please. If you don’t mind. I, uh… I’ve been enjoying it,’ Colin confessed, as if this was something to be ashamed of.

‘I should think so!’ Bradley loftily replied. And he got up to go fetch the recharger and plug it in, before reaching for the next letter.

## five

  


* * *

_You are the greatest thing that has ever happened to me._

 _The Notebook_

* * *

The next morning Bradley took a cup of herbal tea up to Colin in his study. The man was sitting at his desk, but Colin was pondering and the computer was hibernating.

‘Dreaming up the next masterpiece?’ Bradley asked when Colin offered him thanks and a relatively undistracted smile. ‘A story? Or a play? Maybe something with a small but crucial role for a devilishly handsome old codger.’

Colin laughed. ‘Oh, no… No,’ he added more seriously. ‘I don’t think I’ll be writing much more. Maybe one last thing.’

‘What? You don’t mean one last thing _ever_.’

‘Yeah, I do.’ Colin offered him an apologetic shrug. ‘And it’s half done already. An adaptation. Someone else already did the hard parts. I’ve got the energy left to polish that off, I think.’

Bradley sat down on the sofa, the weight of the world descending on his shoulders. He tried to answer lightly, though. ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

‘Are you? Weren’t you asking me just the other day when our retirement might actually begin?’

‘Well, yeah, but… I was kinda fooling around. You’re not the sort to ever really retire. Are you? I figured you’d at least keep writing.’

Colin still seemed mostly lost in thought, though he smiled a bit vaguely at Bradley –

And Bradley kept rattling on, cos there were times when silence was the scariest thing around. ‘I’m sorry, cos – Well, sleeping with the writer rarely gets you anywhere, but I never really minded, cos most casting directors would take pity on me, obviously suffering as I did, being Colin Morgan’s boyfriend and all.’

At least he had Colin’s full attention by the end of that. ‘Idiot,’ said Colin, very fondly.

‘Colin –’

‘Yeah?’

Bradley sighed, and almost lost his nerve, but then looked at the man very directly so he could gauge any reaction no matter how small. ‘You still choose life, right?’

‘Of course.’ Colin grinned at him, apparently without a doubt or care in the world. ‘My darlin’ man. You worry too much.’

But of course he did. How could he not? Colin had said he felt like he was past his use–by date. And he’d said it just very simply, like it was a fact. To which a voice within Bradley wailed, _I’m not done using you yet!_

### Triumph

Colin had written a play about Christopher Marlowe, historically yet ironically titled _Kind Kit_ , and Bradley had worked so very hard for the audition – he’d prepared, like, a hundred times more than even Colin was aware of – that they were basically forced to give him the lead role. Which immediately put the pressure on the whole production, cos no one else expected Bradley to be any use at all. In fact, dire things were muttered about the unexpected power wielded by Colin Morgan if he could get his boyfriend a role for which he was so woefully miscast. Faustian pacts were mentioned darkly.

♦

On opening night, Bradley was in the dressing room slowly finishing off his make–up when Colin tapped on the door and let himself in. ‘Hey,’ said Colin softly.

‘Hey,’ he replied with a rather shaky smile.

‘Nervous?’

Bradley shrugged. ‘The usual. You?’

‘The usual.’

‘Wouldn’t be nervous if we didn’t care, right? And caring is the important thing.’

Colin wandered over to him, stood at his shoulder, and they gazed at each other through the mirror. ‘You’re gonna be brilliant,’ Colin said, just very simply, like it was a fact.

Bradley snorted. ‘As long as _you_ think so.’

‘Everyone’s gonna think so.’

‘Colin, it’s such a fucking good play, and if I stuff this up for you –’

‘Impossible.’ The five minute bell rang, off down the corridor. Colin leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of Bradley’s head. ‘Darlin’ man,’ he murmured. And then he was gone.

♦

It was a triumph, of course. Bradley could tell, cos it was his very first proper standing ovation. _Everyone_ was standing. During the second curtain call, the cast turned to invite Colin out on stage – where he was greeted with cries of _Bravo! Bravissimo!_ from the audience. Bradley presented him with an enormous bunch of red roses, and a kiss, then leaned in closer to whisper in his ear. ‘Olivier Awards all round,’ he predicted.

* * *

‘That was the award that meant the most to me,’ Bradley explained on the third evening they’d spent reading through his letters. ‘Cos it might have been for Best Actor, but I couldn’t have done it without your words. So it was, like, for both of us.’

‘I felt the same way about mine. They wouldn’t have given me Best New Play if you hadn’t astonished everyone into paying attention.’

‘We always made such a great team,’ Bradley concluded. And then he kept reading with a catch in his voice.

♦

‘So we’re done,’ Colin said quietly, once Bradley had finished the letter he’d written not two weeks before, because Colin had been taking a nap under the apple trees and Bradley had wanted to describe how delicious he looked. Colin was fumbling with his phone, about to switch off the recording.

‘Not quite,’ Bradley replied. ‘I’ve got one more.’

‘Oh! A new one.’ Colin was touchingly delighted, given that surely anyone else would have had enough long before now.

‘D’you wanna read it yourself first?’

‘No. No, read it out loud to me.’ And he settled again with an anticipatory smile, placing the phone in his lap and the mic on his knee.

Bradley cleared his throat.

>  _Colin – my dear Colin,_
> 
>  _I am a very ordinary sort of man, but I have loved you with my heart and my soul, with my body and my mind – with everything there is of me that can love. The extraordinary thing in my life is that you have loved me in return, and that I have had the privilege of sharing my life with yours._
> 
>  _I cannot imagine that anyone could possibly have been happier than I have been. I know that our life together hasn’t meant as much to you as it has to me – How could it? – but if you have shared in even half of the happiness, even a quarter of it, then I trust you will feel no regrets. I trust you will feel it has been a life well spent. You are too generous a man not to be glad for your own sake – to be glad of how utterly content I am, even now as the dusk draws in upon us._
> 
>  _When this first began, I made two wishes, and they came true. The third would have been that you would let me love you for all my life. You have kindly granted that wish as well. Thank you. You have all my gratitude for what you have given me._
> 
>  _If there is anything you need of me now, Colin, you must ask it. I am yours, and I will as always do whatever it is that you will._
> 
>  _with all my love forever, Bradley_

He barely got through it before the weeping kicked in. Bradley carefully folded up the letter, and put it in the box with the others, his hands trembling, tears running down his cheeks. And then he dared to turn a little towards Colin, to try and gauge his reaction. Colin was still sitting down the other end of the sofa. And it seemed he was weeping, too.

‘Oh, _Bradley…_ ’ Colin said gustily. ‘Oh, you _idiot…_ Why are you crying? What d’you think is going on here?’

‘You’re – you’re saying goodbye to me. Aren’t you?’

‘No. **_No._** Of course not!’

‘All this talk of use–by dates, and choosing life – but maybe you’ll change your mind about that – and you not writing any more, or reading _Middlemarch_. I thought – I thought, one way or another, you were thinking about leaving me.’

‘Never. Never. Not until I _have_ to. And there’s a few years left in me yet, Bradley James.’

‘But –’ _Oh god._ Bradley was mentally scrambling, something at which he’d never been very adept. ‘But why – why have me read you the letters, then?’

‘ _Because._ That’s my last writing project. A book, a novel, a memoir, about _us_. God, don’t you see? I thought you’d suss me out immediately. I thought I was being so transparent.’

A laugh bubbled out of him through the sobs. ‘Don’t you know not to overestimate me by now?’

‘And don’t _you_ know –’ There was an upheaval down the other end of the sofa, and then Colin was crawling towards him, collapsing into his arms, and they were both damp with tears, weak with grief and love and frustration and the anticipation of relief. Weak, maybe, with a glimpse of joy. ‘Don’t _you_ know, my own darlin’ man, how much I _adore_ you? My god, how can you have lived with me all these – all these _decades_ – and not know that I love you just as much as you love me?’

‘But how could you?’ he quietly protested, even as his heart begged him to trust, to believe, to surrender to this whole impossible truth. His arms tightened around his love, his own astonishing wonderful love.

‘I’ve failed you. Oh, how I’ve failed you. But I’ll make it up!’ Colin declared, overriding Bradley’s demurrals. ‘God, I’ll be spending the rest of my life making it up to you – I’d already decided on that anyway, I just didn’t know how much you _needed_ it…’

‘Colin –’

‘First there’s this book, all right? It’s _our_ story, the story of _our_ love. Our _equal_ love. I had the idea of basing it around your letters, your wonderful letters, but there’s so much more to tell – from your side as well as mine.’

‘Colin –’

‘And then once I’m done with this one last project, we’ll be properly retired, and we can get on with the rest of the honeymoon.’

‘The rest of –?’

‘Yes. There were occasional interruptions, it’s true, but it started one summer’s day in July, a long long _long_ time ago, when I was full of grief for dear Richard…’

‘No, it started the February before, when I gave you a love letter on Valentine’s Day.’

‘Then you started without me, didn’t you?’ Colin tartly responded. ‘Typical, James!’

‘You caught up eventually, Morgan.’

Colin laughed happily – he was so very happy – and Bradley dared to look at him, he dared to believe – and the joy came crashing through him like the world had ended and heaven had begun. And Colin said, ‘Come on, old man. I’m taking you to bed.’

♦

He was still so utterly beautiful, this gorgeous Irishman. He was scrawnier than ever, but when he forgot himself there was an elegance to his every move. His hair no longer contrasted so darkly with his pale skin, but his eyes were still as bright and blue and endless as a summer ocean. His fingers shook a little on occasion, but when they were sure of purpose – as they were now – they were clever, knowing every last square inch of Bradley and what to do with it – and they were gentle or hard as required.

Colin knelt by him on the bed, their bed that they’d shared for so very long. Bradley lay on his back with his knees bent, and Colin’s fingers worked over him, within him, wrapping round him – until Bradley was almost so delirious with pleasure that he forgot about giving as well as receiving. At the last possible moment he batted Colin’s hands away, slid further down the bed and curled up around where Colin knelt – took that lovely long cock into his mouth, jostled the elliptical spheres of Colin’s balls in a palm – while Colin ran one hand down Bradley’s flank, caressed his rear for a moment, before insinuating fingers within him again, claiming and reclaiming what had always been his. And then when Colin was almost done, too, Bradley was pushed away – they resettled on their sides, lying there facing each other, watching each other, loving each other – and with careful relentless strokes, echoing each other exactly, they finished each other off, they spilled their seed in a delightful confusion of kisses and moans and endearments. And then they lay there together, so utterly mutually content.

♦

‘That book of yours will never be done, you know,’ Bradley commented after a while. ‘If it’s the story of our love? The story hasn’t finished yet.’

‘It’ll never finish,’ Colin agreed in confident tones. ‘But the next parts are for us alone.’

‘Oh, that’s all right then. You know… cos I love you more and more each day. It’s like – a never–ending story. Only with sex.’

‘The best sort,’ Colin agreed. And then he announced, ‘I never understood Shakespeare, until I understood you.’

‘Right…’ Bradley responded with a large dose of scepticism.

‘ _My bounty is as boundless as the sea,_ | _My love as deep; the more I give to thee,_ | _The more I have, for both are infinite._ I never got that, until you taught me about love. And then it was the same for me, too.’

Bradley chuckled. ‘Yeah, I guess Will knew his stuff. But the way I’d put it is this: Love is like ice cream.’

Colin’s grin was blindingly beautiful. ‘How so?’

‘There’s always room for more. No matter how full you are from dinner and pudding, you can always fit a bit more ice cream in down round the sides.’

They laughed, and then Colin kissed him, and they held each other close. ‘I love you,’ Colin whispered, with his forehead pressed to Bradley’s.

‘I love you, too.’

Then Colin drew back a little – just far enough so that they could focus clearly while their arms still embraced each other. ‘Bradley. Bradley, marry me. _Marry me._ I’m not taking no for an answer this time.’

And Bradley grinned, and at last he said, ‘Yes. Colin, _yes._ ’

♦


End file.
